


Sanguisuge

by Dovesummer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, He's definitely still shady though it's only barely hinted at, M/M, Neighbors, Or Maybe He Is It's A Bit Unclear, Vampire! Will, Very Mild Implied Sexual Content, also related to the blood drinking, slight eroticism related to the blood drinking, vampire Will still loves dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovesummer/pseuds/Dovesummer
Summary: Hannibal stared at him now, his sultry, stunningly beautiful neighbor, Will Graham, creature of the night.  Gripping the wooden stake hidden behind his back tightly he lunged, swinging toward the creature’s heart, but the vampire was too fast.  Will caught his wrist and held it, squeezing so that Hannibal released the stake involuntarily.  Will placed a kiss to the inside of the wrist at his pulse point, smirking knowingly at the fluttering of Hannibal’s heart.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 113





	Sanguisuge

Hannibal stared in consternation at the black mist seeping through the gap under his door, unsurprised when it began to coalesce into the form of a man. A man who, until recently, Hannibal had been particularly partial to seeing. A man he had considered a close friend and had hoped to consider more. 

*

Despite his neighbor’s oddities, Hannibal felt a compelling draw from the moment he’d laid eyes on the man, sorting through junk mail one evening in the lobby. He had an ethereal beauty about him; pale skin to contrast with dark hair that, one could tell without the need for touch, was luxuriously soft. He wore his curly hair tamed and slicked back, though the occasional errant curl would slip free encouraging in Hannibal all manner of fantasies about how to free the rest of those carefully coiffed locks. He carried himself with a quiet confidence: here was someone who knew the world watched him but cared little for what they thought. And yet there was an unmistakable air of otherness to him - something that caused his neighbors to give him a wide berth without fully acknowledging it. Considering it in hindsight, Hannibal doubted they were aware they did it. It was a sense of danger unacknowledged; a vague prickling sensation at the back of the skull. One he had unfortunately ignored.

The man had not been immediately friendly - it had been Hannibal who sought him out, curious about this strange, quiet creature. He had initially rebuffed Hannibal’s advances; firm but gentle when declining invitations for drinks or dinner. Oddly, what had been the impetus for their friendship was the injured dog Hannibal found at the front door one evening. 

It was a dirty, pitiful creature, matted and covered in mange, and it hobbled over to Hannibal as he arrived at the building, clearly unable to put weight on one of its hind legs. Hannibal tsked on seeing it. He was not naturally inclined toward animals - strays in particular - but this one seemed intent on approaching and following him, regardless of the fact that it was clearly in pain. As it happened, the peculiar neighbor he had been determined to get to know was leaving the building as Hannibal was arriving. 

Upon seeing the dog, the man immediately sunk to his knees. “Oh, you poor thing,” he said, running his hands down the dog’s fur, heedless of the dirt and mange. Hannibal’s face twisted into an involuntary grimace, thinking of how dirty his neighbor’s hands would be, but he found himself sinking down to join the man nevertheless. The man’s hands traveled down to the leg, and the dog snarled and snapped at him. Hannibal shifted backward, but the man’s only reaction was to make a shushing sound which somehow immediately quieted the dog. 

“I think his leg is broken,” the man said. He looked at Hannibal, an appeal clear in his eyes. “You’re a surgeon. Can you fix him?” 

Hannibal wondered briefly how the man knew that, since he had managed to determine next to nothing about his neighbor. The mailbox for his apartment said only “Graham” and Hannibal was uncertain whether that was a first name or a surname. 

“Practicing medicine on humans and animals is not as similar as some would have you believe,” Hannibal commented. “The anatomy is not entirely comparable and many human physicians have caused their pets irreparable harm by assuming they know something they do not.”

The man nodded, but the look in his eyes was still beseeching. “A broken bone is a broken bone, though - is it not?” 

Hannibal looked up to meet the man’s eyes and for a moment he was falling, flung hard and fast over the edge of a cliff and hurtling toward the roiling ocean below. Blue eyes shifted away from him quickly, but the lingering image of their beauty remained embedded behind Hannibal’s eyelids as he blinked. His heart thudded loudly in his chest. His companion looked determinedly at the dog, nostrils flaring slightly as he quickly inhaled, his concern for the animal clear.

Without further thought - for any rational thought would certainly have prevented him from taking his next action - he scooped up the dog and entered the building, the man trailing behind him with a soft “thank you.” 

“I feel as though I should introduce myself, if we are to rescue this dog together,” Hannibal said, trying for a lightly teasing tone. But his voice, even to his own ears, betrayed his desperation to know something - anything - about the man currently riding the elevator up to the 16th floor penthouses with him. 

“I know who you are,” the man said. “Dr. Hannibal Lecter. A surgeon of some renown. You’re quite well-respected in your field. Calm and collected under pressure, according to your colleagues, which is why you excel in the ER.” The man looked at Hannibal assessingly, blue eyes cool. “I can see now why they value your poise.” 

Hannibal felt an odd buzzing sensation as the man looked him over. He swallowed, thickly. “It seems unfair - you know quite a bit about me and yet I know nothing about you.”

The man gave him a smile that Hannibal felt at the time conveyed warmth, but in reliving the moment it appeared predatory. “Will Graham,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Hannibal responded, genuinely. “I would shake your hand, but it appears mine are occupied at present.” 

Will’s smile widened. “I think we can dispense with social pleasantries, given you’re occupied in a charitable endeavor. And on my behalf - something I can’t thank you for enough.” 

Hannibal had gone over this exchange in his mind dozens of times - if not more - but he could never see the gratitude Will displayed in that moment as anything but genuine. 

They arrived at Hannibal’s floor and Will followed him out of the elevator and to his door - at which point Hannibal found himself at something of a loss, as continuing to hold the dog and retrieving his keys from his pocket were mutually exclusive acts. The dog was surprisingly calm in his arms and he didn’t care to jostle it any more than necessary. Finally, he looked at Will. 

“The keys are in my right pocket,” he said. “If you would be so kind.” 

Will nodded and reached into his trouser pocket. He made quick work of retrieving the keys, but the graze of his fingers against Hannibal’s leg, even though the cloth, caused a flood of warmth to the area that felt entirely inappropriate in their current circumstances. Will flipped quickly through the keys on the ring until Hannibal indicated the house key. As Will unlocked the door and pushed it open, he gestured for Hannibal to enter first. 

“Please come in, Will,” Hannibal said, not realizing this one phrase, said out of politeness - he thought - rather than necessity, would be his downfall. 

*

Hannibal stared at him now, his sultry, stunningly beautiful neighbor, Will Graham, creature of the night. Gripping the wooden stake hidden behind his back tightly he lunged, swinging toward the creature’s heart, but the vampire was too fast. Will caught his wrist and held it, squeezing so that Hannibal released the stake involuntarily. Will placed a kiss to the inside of the wrist at his pulse point, smirking knowingly at the fluttering of Hannibal’s heart. 

“That wouldn’t have worked anyway,” Will said, “though I do admire you for trying.” He still clutched Hannibal’s wrist, running the pointer finger of his other hand across Hannibal’s cheekbone, down his jaw, across his chin and then up the other side of his face, before moving to rest it gently against Hannibal’s neck, his pulse still fluttering wildly beneath the skin. 

“That’s not entirely fear, is it Hannibal?” Will asked. Embarrassingly, Hannibal found speech had left him and he made a guttural noise that might have indicated either confirmation or denial. Will placed his lips against Hannibal’s neck, his fangs still carefully sheathed. Hannibal shuddered. He had expected cold, but Will’s lips were warm and impossibly soft as he pressed feather light kisses to the thin skin, before licking it lightly, tracing the jugular vein. 

“You wanted me from the time you first saw me,” Will continued. “Do you know why?” Hannibal shook his head, mutely. “Because we’re both predators, Hannibal. Though I am the older and more practiced.” Will spoke the words softly into Hannibal’s neck, the vibrations causing another involuntary shudder to run through him. He could smell the vampire, his scent intoxicating and wholly unexpected. Will smelled of forest pine and the salt of the sea. Hannibal pictured an ancient place where old growth trees met new waters. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, as Will’s mouth opened wider and he felt the drag of fangs across his neck. 

“I don’t intend to kill you, Hannibal,” Will spoke softly. “And I don’t intend to turn you. But in the end I find you quite irresistible, and I do intend to feed from you.” 

Hannibal wondered, hysterically, if the vampire would even be able to draw blood from his neck as the kisses and soft exhalations, against all odds and any reason, had his blood rushing somewhere much lower. He could feel Will’s smile pressed to his skin, the fangs still lightly scratching. 

“Bare your neck for me,” Will commanded. And Hannibal did. He was not even under thrall, he realized, though he felt as though he were under some spell. Will had never once put him under thrall, carefully avoid or averting eye contact any time it lingered for too long. His tone was a command, but Hannibal need not have obeyed. And yet he had, unquestionably, and he had no urge to fight now as Will’s fangs pierced the surface of his skin. 

The pain was bright and exquisite, but faded quickly as Will’s neurotoxin flooded his veins, dulling the pain and his other senses. It was similar to the time he’d drunk mushroom tea, reality there but distorted so that it came at him in waves. He could feel Will sucking against his neck and hear the wet slurping sounds of his blood being drunk. It was obscenely erotic, and he could hear himself moaning in ecstasy though he could not feel himself making the sounds. The world around him shimmered with a golden light, and he dimly became aware that he was staring at something white with black lines across it - the vent in his hallway. Somehow he had ended up on the floor on his back.

He felt his heart rate as it slowed, and he began to struggle blindly, his instinct to survive at last taking over. But Will was on top of him, caging him, and he pressed a palm against Hannibal’s chest, pinning him to the floor as casually has Hannibal would swat a fly. It should have been terrifying but Hannibal felt a thrill of pleasure. He could feel Will’s fangs retract from his skin and surprised himself by whining as they did, not wanting to die and yet not wanting the loss of that connection. He felt Will’s tongue licking over the wound, the coagulant in his saliva sealing it so that Hannibal would not continue to bleed. 

Then Will’s lips were on his, his own blood warm and coppery as Will’s tongue swept his mouth, claiming, across his teeth, exploring each crevice, mapping every aspect. Hannibal moaned in ecstasy, his body arching and his every nerve pulsing in sated relief. 

_What was that?_ he tried to ask, but found he still couldn’t form the words. 

Will chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had that kind of reaction to my feeding.” He leaned down to whisper in Hannibal’s ear. “A vampire’s neurotoxin has an amnesic effect. You won’t remember this tomorrow, or if you do it will be as no more than a dream. But remember one thing, Hannibal. I have marked you; you belong to me and no one else.” 

Hannibal nodded, unable to open his eyes, before drifting into a dreamless sleep. 

He awoke to his alarm, feeling tired and not at all rested. He had the oddest sense that something significant had happened the night before. He could have sworn, in fact, that he’d fallen asleep in his hallway, and Will - 

But that made no sense. And he was clearly in bed, not lying on the wood floor of the hallway, and was dressed in his normal sleepwear. 

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he wandered to the kitchen in search of coffee, stretching his neck as he did. He was unaccountably stiff. He must have slept in an awkward position the night before. He sipped his coffee, feeling it revive him, as he prepared for his day. 

Stepping into the elevator, he was surprised to see Will. He did not often see his friend in the mornings; Will tended to be more of a night owl and rose much later than Hannibal. The young man looked lovely that morning. His complexion was ruddier than normal, his eyes shining, and his lips red and full and begging to be kissed. His hair was less coiffed than normal, his curls hinting at an unruliness that had Hannibal longing to touch them more than usual.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal said. “You’re looking especially well this morning.”

Will smiled. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Hannibal, though if you don’t mind my saying you look at bit tired.” He reached out and gently traced the dark circles under Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal started. Will’s touch felt so achingly familiar and yet he was certain this was the first time he’d ever felt it. Looking at his friend he was plagued by the feeling there was something important about Will that he was forgetting; something he desperately needed to recall. 

Hannibal hummed. “I had a restless night. Odd dreams.”

Will’s fingers moved to rest lightly on Hannibal’s forearm. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?” 

Hannibal shook his head. “No, I assure you. I’m merely a bit fatigued.” He held up his travel mug. “The coffee is helping.”

His friend’s smile returned, becoming somewhat sly. “So we’re still on for dinner Friday?” Hannibal couldn’t help but feel a thrill at that smile, which hinted at so many hidden possibilities. He nodded. 

“Excellent,” Will said, removing his hand from Hannibal’s forearm as they both exited the elevator and moved toward the street. “I’m headed this way,” Will said, gesturing East, knowing that Hannibal was going in the opposite direction. 

Hannibal nodded. “Have a good day, Will.” 

“You too,” Will said. As Hannibal turned to go, Will called after him. “Make sure to get some rest, Hannibal. I am very much looking forward to our dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so, I should definitely be working on my multi-chapter fic about Will as a medium (and I am, I promise!) but I basically wrote this in my sleep last night and wanted to get it down. 
> 
> I might be a little obsessed if I am writing fanfic in my sleep. 
> 
> If anyone is interested I am technically on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dovesummer) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/dovesummer1). I say "technically" because my postings on both are sporadic and usually random thoughts. But if anyone would like to say hello, please do - as this pandemic stretches on ad infinitum it's nice to have community.


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